What I Am
by Vayluh Arwen
Summary: 1shot. 'What am I? I don't know if I can explain it so you could understand. I don't know if it's even possible for you to understand. I'll try, if you'll let me. But be careful. Some things you're better off not knowing.' Resident Evil c Constantin Film


**What I Am**

They have one in every house. In every home. On every street. They own everyone. You may not realise it, of course. But they own you. They own you just as much as they own me. Umbrella owns America. Umbrella owns the world.

What am I? I don't know if I can explain it so you could understand. I don't know if it's even _possible_ for you to understand. I'll try, if you'll let me. But be careful. Some things you're better off not knowing. Trust me. Ignorance really can be bliss.

I died. That's what happened, I know that now. I died in that chopper. And they brought me back. Umbrella brought me back. I'm just like those things. But with memory. With consciousness. With understanding. I'm _worse_ than those things. I know what I'm doing.

Evolution. That's what he said. He said I was evolution. The future of the human race. I wouldn't wish this upon anyone. I would rather die than see you become like me.

You should be glad you can't see what I see. You should be glad you don't see things the way I do. I look at the people in front of me, and see only their weaknesses. Where they will take the hardest hit. How they can be stopped. How they can be killed.

You cannot possibly understand what I am. When you have no fear, then you can approach me. When you feel nothing, that's when you're getting close. When all you live for is the next kill, then maybe you are scratching on my thoughts.

Can you feel it yet? You're getting close. You're getting warmer. Can you sense it? Has your heart begun to pound? Has fear begun to move inside you?

Am I human? My heart pounds when I am on a chase. When I am fighting for my life. I have all the usual physical reactions, the reactions I remember from when I was normal, when I wasn't like this. Do you need more than physical reactions to be human?

I have a name. Alice. That is my name. But you can name anything. A name doesn't make me human. You can name a house, a car, a machine. A weapon. That is what I am, a weapon. Project Alice.

She knew. I could see it in her eyes. The slightest glimmer of understanding, followed by real, true fear. The fear that stops you in your place. The fear that makes you back off, instinctively. Primal fear. Fear that even evolution can't truly kill. I told her people have a habit of dying around me. She didn't realise just how true that was. She said she was grateful, and she was. She shouldn't have been. Everywhere I go... death follows. I saved them and doomed them in the same move.

They're dead. All of them. They're all dead.

How's it going so far? Understanding yet? You're getting close. You're getting warmer. Keep going. Deeper. Dig deep into my memories, into my consciousness. See what I've kept hidden underneath. Find the killer, the monster.

What am I.

I still have the sense of mind required to pity my enemies. These people who stand up against me. They don't know what I'm capable of. They don't know what they're getting themselves into.

They don't know I don't need a weapon.

I find myself thinking... calculating... did they have family? Friends? Will someone miss them?

I would be missed. By my creators. They would be severely grieved if any harm should come to me. Not that it could. But... would I be _missed_? I have nothing, no-one.

You wanna hear my body count? 'Cause I count, you know. I haven't got a _choice_. A computer never stops counting. A computer doesn't rest.

You wanna hear it?

Two thousand seven hundred and sixty five.

Two thousand seven hundred and sixty five children taken from their parents. Maybe half of them were parents themselves. Let's say that's so. That's one thousand three hundred and eight two (point five) parents. Let's say they had three kids each. That's four thousand one hundred and forty seven (point five) children I've orphaned. So many lives I've destroyed. No matter the reason. Self-defence, defence of others, revenge, because they were in the way, what does it matter? They're dead. Nothing will ever bring them back. Over two thousand people. Human beings.

You will never understand what I am.

People who play with fire should know that there are fires that cannot be controlled. Fires that will stay burning for a hundred years. I escaped my last keepers. I cannot be contained. I _will_ not be contained.

I'll fight. And kill. I'll kill because that is what I am. That is what I do, that is _all_ I do. I fight. I'm a fighter, a warrior.

Did they plan this from the beginning? Or was it only when they found us that they realised the potential we had. When they found us staggering, falling out of the Hive. He was infected. I had the antidote. But I was too late.

Rain. Chad. James.

Matt.

All those workers, all those people. Their deaths were my fault. I could have saved them. I _should_ have saved them.

Rain said they were empty husks. Walking around without a soul.

How right she was.

You will never understand what I am.

But you're getting close.


End file.
